


A Division of Labour

by maryagrawatson



Series: Flatmates [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e01 A Scandal in Belgravia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 12:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4100638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryagrawatson/pseuds/maryagrawatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just easier to let Sherlock do the chores he wants to do. And the ones he wants to do are surprising.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Division of Labour

It took a few weeks for John to understand Sherlock's housekeeping priorities. And lack thereof.  
  
The bathroom and Sherlock's bedroom had to be spotless at all times. Sherlock took a long bath three or four times a week and John discovered that this doubled as Sherlock's bathroom cleaning time, which he did completely starkers to avoid getting any cleanser on his clothes. John wanted cleanser for his mind to erase the horrific image of walking into the bathroom to be faced with Sherlock's naked arse as the guy bent over the tub, polishing it to a mirror shine. The man had been so far into his mind palace that he hadn't heard the knock. The only thing that kept John from moving out right then and there from mortification was that he was sure Sherlock never knew he was there.  
  
But then, there was the kitchen. Sherlock would wash between experiments all his science equipment and dry it to prevent spotting. Otherwise, he didn't seem to have much use for washing up liquid. In sharp contrast to the bathroom, the kitchen didn't need Sherlock's attention unless they were absolutely out of any dishes that could double as a tea mug. John had tested that theory while Mrs. Hudson was away in America visiting her sister as he knew that she couldn't hold out as long as needed to prove his theory.  
  
John didn't wash a single dish for almost two weeks, letting the pile in the sink grow and moulder and smell until he caught Sherlock drinking his tea out of a nearly empty jam jar from the fridge that John was sure hadn't even been rinsed first (wasn't that a thing in America anyway, cold sweet raspberry tea?). They had a case that occupied the next three days (as it turned out, it wasn't impossible for the cockatoo to have done it), and then there was nothing on their calendar. The kitchen situation was getting unbearable. Mrs. Hudson was back in two days and John had to admit he had nearly reached his breaking point. But he got home from work on the second day after closing the case and the kitchen was clean. When John asked Sherlock sarcastically if he had been out of mugs, all he got was a, "Don't be absurd. We were out of spoons, too." John decided that if Sherlock was cleaning the bathroom regularly, he didn't deserve to be nagged about the washing up. And so, an almost formal division of chores started.  
  
Finally, there was laundry. Sherlock was just as peculiar about the laundry as he was about having a clean tub. Of course, his expensive suits got sent to a dry cleaner. Pants and pajamas went to a service that came once a week to collect his small bag. This seemed strange to John since Mrs. Hudson had taken it upon herself to do his laundry. He'd told her repeatedly that that wasn't necessary and that he could go to the laundrette (he really didn't fancy the thought of her handling his pants), but she had brushed him off and said it was no trouble and John had decided to just let that go.  
  
That just left Sherlock's socks. John had never met anyone so obsessed with socks. Sherlock had two drawers of socks. They all appeared black and the same to John, but Sherlock insisted they were all different (obviously, John's observation skills were once again proven to be lacking if he couldn't appreciate the difference in texture and fibers of each pair). In fact, Sherlock found them to be so different, that he had them all sorted according to a 'sock index.' During a drug search requested by Mycroft on a danger night, John had decided to search the bedroom himself and had apparently messed up the sock index (putting each pair back in the same drawer he had taken it from wasn't good enough). Sherlock had a strop for a week solid where his socks were strewn all around the living room until he could rebuild the damn index. John never touched the socks again.  
  
Sherlock wasn't just particular about the order of his socks within the drawers. He also wanted them to be laundered correctly. This meant that they couldn't be washed with anything else or even each other as lint transfer would affect their subtle colour variation (and John had always been certain that black was black). So this was why John would frequently get home to find Sherlock at the kitchen sink washing his socks by hand (often in John's favourite tea mug, because Sherlock obviously relished being the King of All Pricks). Sherlock would then bathe the contents of the sink with his sock juice (the first time John witnessed that was after The Great Washing Up Experiment, which cemented who would be in charge of kitchen sanitation from now on), rinse, gently squeeze the water out of the socks, and hang them on the rack under the window by the fridge.  
  
So when it was all added up, with Mrs. Hudson taking care of the dusting and lino even though she was most certainly not their housekeeper, John found himself responsible for his bedroom, the washing up, and most of the food shopping. This truly wasn't a bad division of labour at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching ASIB the other night when I noticed something amusing at the beginning of it, when Mrs. Hudson is going about the flat picking up things. There is a drying rack under the window in the kitchen with lots of things pinned to it. It rather looks like an extension of Sherlock's evidence wall and he has something set up on the table, so it's likely all related to an experiment. There is another thing on that rack, a giant pair of black socks. I'm the same size as Martin Freeman, so I can say with confidence that there is no way those socks are John's. They are therefore Sherlock's. What, praytell, are Sherlock's socks doing hanging on the rack was my next question. Well, we learn later in the episode that Sherlock is rather particular about his sock storage, so why not their upkeep? :)


End file.
